


Blue, Blue Blue Blue Christmas

by PrettyMessedUpSituation (MarcelinesNightosphere)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Denny's Diner, If you can call crooning like Elvis into a phone while masturbating phone sex, Light Dom/sub, Lumberjack Slam, M/M, Masturbating, Maybe knock next time?, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Phone Sex, Pink Panties, Self glazing, Singing for release, That ornament is definitely a boob, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 20:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/PrettyMessedUpSituation
Summary: Dean's gonna have a real blue blue blue Christmas if Cas doesn't get back to the bunker soon.





	Blue, Blue Blue Blue Christmas

Dean stared into the open refrigerator and cursed under his breath. He knew he should have hit up the grocery store over the weekend, but Christmas had snuck up on him.

Even though it was Christmas Eve, Dean knew one place would be open and, sweet birthday Jesus, he desperately wanted to shove an All-American Slam into his mouth.

He jogged down the hall to see if Sam wanted to join him on his late night pancake run. Dean turned the knob to Sam’s room and opened the door to see Sam sitting pantsless on his bed with his laptop in its proper place - one’s lap.

Sam slammed his laptop shut which only made his sins visible to not just God, but his brother as well. “Dude! What the fuck?!”

“Nope!” Dean yelled as he stopped swinging the door open and quickly closed it. “Nope. Nope, nope, nope,” he repeated as he made his way to the garage.

He pulled into the near-empty parking lot and sighed. A familiar pang of holiday loneliness tugged on his heart; he didn’t want to be alone on Christmas Eve. Cas was far off somewhere because last week was a buckleming episode, and Sam was spanking it in his room. So all he had was his car and a table at an all-American eatery with a fantastic social media team.

 A gum-chewing waitress came over and pulled out her pen and pad. “What can I get you, sweetheart?”

“I thought I knew what I wanted, but now I’m eying that Lumberjack Slam,” Dean said.

“You should definitely get the Lumberjack Slam,” she said. “It suits you.”

Dean looked down at his clothes. “Fair enough. I’ll have the Lumberjack Slam.”

“Sounds good to me,” the waitress muttered under her breath. Dean squinted and opened his mouth but closed it again. “I’ll be right back,” she said with a wink.

“Well,” Dean said to himself. He sipped his coffee and surveyed the room. The cheap artificial Christmas tree in the corner was over-decorated for how sparse the branches were, and the ornament that was supposed to be a donut with red jelly coming out of the hole in the center was most definitely not a donut. He listened to Brenda Lee, Bing Crosby, and Burl Ives sing about Christmas and watched the snow starting to fall, giving the dark parking lot a layer of white. When his food arrived, he rubbed his hands together and dove into the platter of pancakes, hashbrowns, and meat. When everything else was gone, he picked up a fork and speared a sausage link. Before he could bite down into the glorious pork, his phone rang. It was Cas.

“Hey, Cas. What’s up?”

“You longed?”

“I...I what?”

“I felt a longing,” Cas said, sounding annoyed as if he'd been unexpectedly woken up. 

Dean put down the fork. “S-so? What of it?” He wiped his mouth.

“It seemed incredibly intense. More than usual.”

“Than _usual_ _?”_  Dean asked.

Cas sighed dramatically. “You _long_ . A _lot_. It’s nearly constant, so I’ve grown quite used to it. Since it is Christmas Eve and it was such an intense longing, I thought I’d call.”

“Well. That’s mighty nice of you, Cas.”

“Go to the bathroom.”

Dean was taken aback. “ _What?”_  he whispered, as if any of the other four people scattered around the restaurant could hear him.  _“Why?”_

“I know what you need, and it’ll take me a few hours to wrap up this needless side plot before I can get to you,” Cas said.

Dean abruptly stood up and nearly knocked over his untouched glass of water. He steadied the table, dropped a twenty, and headed to the bathroom. Luckily, no one was in there taking a shit.

He locked the stall door behind him. “Okay, I’m in the bathroom.” He started sweating.

“Unbuckle your belt and put your hand into your pants,” Cas said.

Dean flushed. “Okay,” he said as he fumbled with his pants. “Hand.. _.in pants,”_ he whispered.

“Just cup it and listen. Don’t pull anything out. I just want you to know a few things before I have to go. When you get back to the bunker, you’re going to put on those pink satin panties. You’re going to text me a photo of your thumb pulling them out from under your jeans. Every time you think about what’s going to happen when I take them off, I want you to pinch your nipple.”

Dean’s chub was growing.

“Don’t even think about it,” Cas threatened threateningly. It only made Dean’s cock throb.

“I’ll be back at the bunker within the next twelve hours, and when I get back, I’m going to take you to your room. You’re going to lay face down, ass up on your bed….”

Dean swallowed. His heart was picking up pace and he found himself making teasing strokes with his thumb.

_BOOM BOOM BOOM._

“FuCK!” Dean yelped as he dropped the phone.

“Hey, buddy! I gotta shit, and this other toilet is clogged. The restaurant closes in five. How much longer you gonna be?”

Dean braced himself on the side of the stall for a second. “I’m...I’m on my way out. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Good. Glad I could speed things up. Now it’s my turn,” the man said.

Dean zipped himself up, buckled his belt, and pulled his shirt down over the bulge in his pants. He bent down to pick up the phone. “Hey. Cas. I gotta call you back.”

“Just text me when you get situated back at the bunker. And that problem you’re currently having? I’ll handle it when I get back,” Cas said.

“But -”

“Don’t even think about doing anything about it.”

 

The panties pulled tight over him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Cas getting back. It had been four hours and his nipple was pink and sensitive, and his balls were absolutely aching.

How would Cas know if he touched himself?

His phone buzzed.

 

> _Don’t._

Dean sighed. His phone buzzed again.

 

> _Tweak it._

Fuck.

 

At seven hours, he felt like he was dying.

He sent Cas a text.

 

> _Hey. Any chance you can be back earlier?_

He attached a picture of his dick peeking out from the top of his panties.

A few minutes later, Cas sent a text back.

> _Sing for me, and I'll let you come._

Dean called him immediately.

 

Laying on his back, his knees apart and hand wrapped around his cock, Dean stroked himself while he sang.  

 _“I'll have a Blue Christmas without you._ _I'll be so blue just thinking about you._ _Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree - w_ _on't be the same dear, if you're not here with me,”_ Dean sang into the phone. His breath started to hitch.  _“And when those blue snowflakes start falling, th_ _at's when those blue memories start calling. Y_ _ou'll be doin' all right,_ oh fuck  _with your Christmas of white….”_ Dean could barely think and his voice got shaky. “Cas, can I come, please?”

“Not yet,” Cas said. “Keep singing.”

 _“But I'll,_ fuck, _have a blue, blue blue blue blue bLUE BLUE_ oh fuck fuck  _blue blue Christmas.”_

“You can come,” Cas said.

“Oh thank _fuck_ ,” Dean said. He moaned into the phone as he came.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas said.

“M-merry Christmas, Cas,” Dean breathed heavily into the phone.

The bedroom door swung open.

“Hey, Dean, it’s Christmas. D’ya wanna have a drin-NOPE!” Sam slammed the door shut. “That’s...that’s fucking gross, Dean,” Sam said through the door. “I’ll be having a drink outside in the snow if you want to join me - after you clean up.”

Dean raised his head toward to the door and glanced at himself, spread out like a freshly glazed star. “Payback’s a bitch,” he yelled. “I’ll be out in five.” He returned his attention to the phone. “Hey, Cas. See you soon?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said. Dean heard the laugh in his voice. “I’ll see you soon.”

Cas hung up and Dean took a few deep breaths. “ _You'll be doin' all right, with your Christmas of white_ ,” he sang as he stared up at the ceiling. “ _But I'll have a blue, blue Christmas._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> wtf did you read? blame [this. ](https://mayalaen.tumblr.com/post/167881899629/under-the-missile-toe-spncoldesthits-december)


End file.
